


Hook, Line, and Suckers

by antigrav_vector



Series: Things I blame on the CapRBB slack [16]
Category: Captain America (MCU), Iron Man (MCU), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky and James are different personalities, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, I blame CAPRBB slack chat, James is not a damsel in distress, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mission Fic, Multi, Nudity, POV Multiple, Past Bucky Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past James "Bucky" Barnes/the Winter Soldier, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Search and Rescue, Tony is a mother hen, but Tony treats him a bit like one, but they're learning to live together, damn it, don't question it too hard, gdi, idek, it grew a plot, magically appearing tentacles, octobucky, really weird love triangles, references to comic book events, shifting pov, showering together, so are James and Bucky, two of them in fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: A mission to capture the Scientist Supreme goes massively sideways, and Bucky finds himself abruptly separated from James. Worse, they both -- and Steve and Tony -- got flung into the middle of the ocean to sink or swim, injured and reeling from what had just happened.Oh, and Bucky and James suddenly have octopus arms instead of human legs.





	1. [Steve POV]

**Author's Note:**

> Presented with thanks to my beta [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism).
> 
> This is, once again, mostly Quarra's fault for giving me the idea that I needed to write more octobucky. There will be a smutty sequel. Possibly two. I'm not sure yet.

"Hello?" Steve tested his comm. "Does anyone read? Avengers, come in."

Silence answered him.

Silence and static. The only other things he could hear right now were Bucky's slightly labored breathing, his own, as he worked to keep them afloat, and the quiet susurration of the ocean waves all around them. It was far quieter than he'd have thought, really. The loudest things around were the occasional sprays of water that parted from the crests of the waves to hit the surface again and the quiet hushed sound of the wind. There was no crash of surf. No calls of shorebirds, either.

Steve fought down the shiver of fear that tried to run up his spine. If his comm wasn't working, the locator chip in it probably wasn't either.

He and Bucky might as well be dead, lost at sea as they currently were with no means of transportation, no water, and no map or indication of where they were.

"Iron Man," he tried again, hoping against hope and tucking Bucky closer to his chest to keep his feet from getting tangled up in... no, he wasn't thinking about that right now. Tackle one problem at a time, he told himself. "Iron Man, do you copy? Hawkeye?"

Still nothing. Steve gave in to the rising need to swear a blue streak, then sighed. It looked like he'd just have to hope the team pried his location out of the Scientist Supreme and could come pick them up before they drowned.

James and Bucky had been separate personalities sharing a brain until now. Now... things were somehow both more and less complicated. They were separate people now, and Steve had no idea what to think or do about it. He suspected Bucky would feel the same once he was conscious again. James and Tony would likely simply go haring off after their new shared number one target with the intent to burn it to the ground. The two of them fed off one another, in that respect. James had a vicious vindictive streak a mile wide, and Tony a grudge against insurgent groups.

They had bigger problems at the moment, though. One. Problem. At a time. One. Steve told himself, shoving that train of thought to the back of his mind for later, as well.

The team'd been on the trail of a HYDRA splinter faction calling themselves AIM -- the same group, incidentally, who'd blown up Tony's Malibu mansion -- because they'd somehow gotten their hands on Loki's old Tesseract stick. And they'd caught up with AIM, too. They'd had the upper hand and everything. The rest of the team had been there to back them up, the goons manning the base had been dealt with. Only the ringleader of the group, the so called Scientist Supreme, had been left to face them down... and then the asshole had gotten in a lucky shot, leaving James on the floor writhing in pain and clutching at his head -- and Bucky standing, wavering on his feet beside his literal other half.

Tony had dropped to one knee and reached for James, as Steve hauled Bucky in close where he could cover them both with his shield. Before anyone but he and Tony could react, the Scientist Supreme had raised that damned Tesseract stick again, and--

And that would have been bad enough, but the next shot had dumped him and Bucky into the ocean, with no land in sight. Suddenly immersed in cold salt water, he'd made the mistake of yelping, which had resulted in seawater getting in his nose and mouth. Ruthlessly stifling his coughing fit, he'd made sure he had a secure grip on Bucky's gun harness and fought his way to the surface.

Once he'd gotten there, well. That had been when Steve had discovered the _other_ affect the damned stick had had.

Steve set aside the thoughts long enough to check on Bucky, wrapped up in his arms and out cold, breathing a sigh of relief when he found nothing immediately wrong. Well, nothing more than before. Through some kind of magical means he didn't want to contemplate right at that moment, Bucky was half octopus. Steve was inclined to blame it on the damned Tesseract stick. Neither Bucky nor James had ever mentioned anything like this happening when they hit the beach.

He also still hadn't spotted Tony or James, and _that_ was worrying.

They'd been bunched up close enough together as they'd faced down the Scientist Supreme that Steve knew the four of them had all been hit by whatever had teleported him and Bucky into the ocean, so where had Tony and James ended up?

And, perhaps more importantly given the way Bucky had passed out, were they okay?

Steve bit at his lip, tasting salt and brine. This was bad. So bad.

He tucked his face into the curve of Bucky's neck and took a deep shuddering breath, feeling the change in buoyancy lift them a bit higher in the water as he did, and just held it for a long few seconds. As attempts to calm himself down went, it wasn't the best... but it also wasn't the worst. "To the end of the line, Buck," he muttered, not caring that Bucky couldn't hear him, and taking what comfort he could in Bucky's steady breath and heartbeat.

At least neither of them was physically injured, and the waters they were in weren't nearly icy enough to trigger any of his bad memories.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Bucky finally stirred with a groan. "Steve? Wha?"

"Oh, good, you're awake." Raising his head, Steve pulled Bucky in for a quick chaste kiss. "Short version of a long story: we're lost at sea and I have no comms contact with the team."

Bucky was silent for a long moment. "Why do I remember seeing myself laid out on the floor? And how'd we get here?"

"Well," Steve told him, wondering when he'd get around to bringing up the octopus arms, "you remember seeing that because it happened. The Scientist Supreme managed to hit you with that Tesseract stick and then there were two of you. We got here because he hit us a second time. Tony and the other you were also in the line of fire, but I have no idea where they landed."

"The 'other me' is James," Bucky replied, and looked unnerved. "It's way too quiet, right now."

That likely meant both inside and outside his head. Steve had no idea how the two of them communicated or coexisted, really, but they definitely had been pretty closely intertwined before this clusterfuck of a mission. "You okay, Buck?"

"Physically? Yeah. But this is _bizarre_ , Steve."

They clung to one another, bobbing on the waves, for a few minutes before Bucky voiced the question Steve had been waiting for. "Why do I have... squid legs? Fucking HYDRA. Seriously."

Steve couldn't help chuckling at the extremely put out look on Bucky's face. "Pretty sure it's octopus, actually," he pointed out, helpfully. "No idea why you have 'em though. Probably also because of whatever the Tesseract stick did."

"God damn it," Bucky said on a sigh, tucking his new appendages out of the way of Steve's legs. "Ever since James and I took up with this team, it's been one bizarre situation after another anytime we go out on a mission, you know. You and Stark attract weird."

Unable to deny that, Steve shrugged. "I know, but it's not like we go out looking for it?"

Bucky huffed at him, looking like he wanted to cross his arms, then settled for glaring. "Next thing I know Barton's going to show up with literal wings sprouting from his back and offer to carry us home to New York."

"At this point, I wouldn't even care, as long as we got home."

An indeterminate length of time later, Bucky made a startled sound. "Steve, look!"

Bucky's eyes were better than his, but it wasn't long before he could see what had grabbed his lover's attention. "Boy is that a sight for sore eyes," he breathed.

"You said it, punk. Come on, let's meet 'em halfway," Bucky suggested, peeling Steve off him and striking out in the direction of the suit of red and gold armour hovering just above the waves. A dark shadow clung to its side, and Steve recognized James with a profound sense of relief. 

They were fine.


	2. [James POV]

He'd been knocked flat by whatever the fuck that had been. The tearing pain had made tears spring to his eyes and a keening sound force its way past his teeth, even as a cold sweat broke out on his body. A quiet clang of metal had signaled that Tony was nearby and covering him, which had made the surge of agony a little easier to ride out.

The sudden sensation of falling and Tony's startled shout, though... those had gotten his attention in a hurry. James managed to peel his eyes open just in time to realise that they were somehow falling toward the surface of the ocean and out of sight of land.

Rather than waste the time it would take to speak, he took a deep breath instead, mentally preparing himself for the shock of hitting the water, and reached out to Tony. In a blink, Tony had taken his metal wrist in a firm grip, pulled James in until they were plastered together, and turned them so that he was underneath.

In almost the same moment, they were making impact with a loud splash and then the ever-unsettling sound and feeling of getting dunked. The water soaked through his gear in moments, and it was _cold_ against his skin, but James was more focused on the fact that Tony was suddenly a lead weight in his arms. All his instincts were screaming at him. Letting Tony take the impact had been a big tactical error. James could heal. Could recover from almost anything. Tony couldn't. And he couldn't swim in his getup.

James didn't panic. He definitely didn't panic. He hauled Tony toward the surface, fighting to keep the armour from sinking like a stone.

It was only once he'd had a chance to take a lungful of fresh air that James noticed that he had his own problems to worry about. Somehow, and he wasn't going to worry about how just now, he had octopus arms. "What the ever loving fuck?" He muttered to himself.

There was also an ominous silence at the back of his mind where Bucky normally was.

He didn't like that one bit. _Bucky?_

The silence he got in reply felt like radio static, and made James clench his teeth hard.

Turning to his lover and checking on him was easier. It was work to keep him afloat, heavy as the suit was, but James wasn't about to let the armour slip beneath the waves without a trace. The arc reactor was lit, but Tony's silence was worrying. Yes, worrying, that was the word. Not panic-inducing. Regardless, James was not going to let go, to have Tony fall victim to a leak in his suit's seals or its crush depth. Or, even if neither of those happened, to lack of oxygen resulting from the lack of power to the armour's air filters.

That thought jolted James into motion. If the suit's air filters were down and Tony was unconscious, he would need someone to pop the faceplate for him. He worked his gloved fingers into the tiny groove under Tony's jaw and hit the switch that functioned as a mechanical override for the faceplate latch. His lover's face came into view and James had to work to keep his worry from distracting him from treading water. Tony was bleeding from a cut above his left eyebrow and out cold. "Fuck. Tony? Tony!"

There was no response. James swore a blue streak, then tried again, using a different tactic. "JARVIS? You there?"

Still nothing.

James decided he didn't like feeling alone one bit. If-- no, _when_ \-- they got out of this, he'd have to have a long talk with Tony and Steve about this. The emptiness where Bucky usually was seemed to glare at him reproachfully. He set aside that thought with a grimace.

It took some careful and very awkward contortions of his hand, but he managed to get his fingers into the right position to check on Tony's pulse and breathing properly. The relief that burned through him when he did was worth every bit of effort, though.

Taking a shuddering breath and resettling the armour in his arms so that he could move more easily, James took stock. He was uninjured, but cold, and would tire quickly if he had to keep the armour afloat. Said armour, much like Tony himself, was unresponsive, and heavy. If Tony -- or JARVIS -- didn't wake soon, they might well drown anyway.

Somewhere in the oddly silent part of his mind, a memory surfaced. James vaguely recalled Steve telling him about Tony telling the story of the first iteration of the armour and the night he'd nearly gotten himself killed when the armour iced over -- and how he'd saved himself.

Hoping like hell that Tony hadn't gotten rid of that safety net, James reached down with his right hand and started running his fingers over the grooves of Tony's hip plates, searching. He didn't have good enough tactile feedback in his left hand for this job and he was starting to feel the strain of keeping them afloat already. If this didn't work, they were both done for.

His hand stumbled over one of his legs, and James hissed in surprise at the sensations that shot through him. He hadn't realised that he'd wrapped two of his legs around Tony's. Or that they were so damned sensitive.

Gingerly, he brought one more of them up and used it in place of his hand, which was starting to lose its sensitivity to touch in the cold water. After that, he quickly found what he was looking for when the suckered limb caught on a round panel just below Tony's hip. He used said limb to grab onto the panel and _twist_.

"You are a moron," he told his unconscious lover, "but at least you're good at your day job."

Slowly, panel by panel, the armour started to light up again.

James breathed a sigh of relief, and poured what strength he still had into keeping them afloat that little while longer until JARVIS could catch them both.

It felt like an eternity had passed before JARVIS' voice sounded. "Sir? Sergeant Barnes?"

"Do me a favor," James said, hearing the tired rasp in his own voice, "and get us out of the water, JARVIS."

There was a tense pause while JARVIS initialised the armour's functions, and then the armor straightened and the repulsors came on. James made sure all of him was clear of the boots and gauntlets, and wrapped his arms securely around Tony's neck as they lifted slowly up out of the water. "Sergeant," JARVIS asked after a few seconds, while the armour hovered just over the waves, "may I ask why you suddenly have become part mimic octopus?"

James shook his hair out of his face and shivered. "No clue. Can you raise the team? We could use a pickup."

JARVIS went quiet for a minute or so, and James assumed he was calling Steve. Steve would come get them. No question about that. He tried to wait patiently, but he was tired and cold and worried about Tony, who was still out like a light.

Finally, the AI came back on the line. "Hawkeye reports that the Captain is missing, and that you appear to have somehow been separated from James."

And wasn't that just typical of their luck. "First of all, I'm James," he corrected the AI, "and second, what do you mean Steve is missing?"

"He and..." JARVIS hesitated, probably debating what name to use, "Sergeant Barnes were reportedly also hit by the device that transported you and sir to your current position, adjusting for the influence of the wind and ocean currents. The two of them have evidently landed elsewhere."

James groaned. "You got a fix on them?"

"Not at present, James. The Captain's comm unit has been deactivated somehow, most probably due to the interference of the Scientist Supreme's teleportation device. I am scanning for any nearby signatures that might indicate his presence, but it will take time, without the direct uplink of his comm unit to piggyback off of."

Typical. James settled in to wait. At least he didn't have to struggle to keep Tony at the water's surface. "You do that," he agreed, "and let me know when you think you've got something. Meantime, tell Clint to come get us. Suit might have the capacity to carry me back to New York, but that would be uncomfortable for all of us."

"Will you be alright without the water to keep your new limbs from drying out?" The AI asked him after a minute or so had gone by in silence.

James would have shrugged if he weren't clinging to the armour. "Guess we'll find out. So far it hasn't caused any issues."


	3. [Tony POV]

Everything hurt. Tony groaned and tried to reach up to rub at his eyes.

"Sir," JARVIS' voice prompted him to open them, "I must ask you to describe your symptoms."

What he saw went a long way toward convincing him he was dreaming, because really. What the actual fuck? "Uhhh," Tony fought to find a way to force this scenario to make sense, feeling like he was trying to grasp streams of water, "first, why are we out over the ocean, and why does Bucky have octopus legs?"

"It's James," his lover corrected him, and Tony felt oddly off balance. He could normally tell them apart at a glance. "JARVIS says the Scientist Supreme somehow separated us then tossed us in the ocean."

Right, Tony remembered that much of their mission. It had been totally surreal to see Bucky and James physically separated. James' pained cries and the way he'd fallen to the floor after they'd been hit by that beam the Scientist Supreme had been carrying around. He couldn't recall what had happened to land them here, though. Wherever here was. There was no land in sight, and he didn't have his HUD to clue him in, since the faceplate was up. James must have done that while he was out, Tony suspected. Taking a breath of air that felt like it was about 50% sea spray, he gathered his thoughts. "Symptoms... right now just a full body ache, a feeling like a hangover, and a bit of timeline confusion."

JARVIS accepted that without argument. "Vitals scan within normal parameters," he responded, "but you were unconscious for the better part of an hour, Sir."

"Tony's stable. Just keep an eye out for any new changes," James suggested. "We need to find Steve and Bucky."

That got Tony's attention. "What do you mean, 'find Steve and Bucky'?"

James gave him a slightly pained look. "They were also teleported away from the team, at the same time we were. JARVIS got confirmation of that from Hawkeye a half hour ago. No one has comms contact with either of them."

"I have been running a search using all available satellites, but so far the results have come up negative," JARVIS added. "Searching the entirety of the globe is a task that cannot be completed quickly without a signal to trace. The Captain's trackers are currently offline, rendering my assistance ineffective. If they were dropped somewhere on land, my estimation is that we can expect them to make contact soon and request pick-up. However, marine search and rescue is far from straightforward, even under ideal conditions."

James growled under his breath, a rumble of sound that very nearly intimidated Tony in its intensity, before he said, "If they're lost at sea and drown because of that asshole, I will make so very sure he regrets it. For as long as physically possible."

Tony cleared his throat. "Understandable, but sweetheart, Avengers don't indulge in torture."

"I'm no Avenger," James reminded him, deftly avoiding the point Tony was trying to make, "and he's picked on the wrong people."

It was almost sweet, hearing him so protective and defensive of their little family, but Tony knew better than to let that go. "You have a point, James, and don't think I don't want that, myself... but it's a bad plan. If the media gets wind of it -- and they will eventually -- things will go south and the whole team will be in trouble before you can say 'Newsflash'. Like it or not, you're one of us now, even if it's unofficial."

The statement got him another growl, and James' arms tightened around his armoured neck. "He hurt me, literally split me in two. He hurt you, and he hurt Steve. The asshole's already had all three strikes. If you won't let me make him pay, I'll find another way."

Well, that wasn't ideal.

"James," Tony said, knowing he sounded tired, "let me have a crack at him legally, first. If it doesn't work, or he gets loose somehow... well, the team will probably get called in again."

He left it at that, and let James think it through to one of its possible conclusions, not voicing the thought he was sure would be going through his lover's head.

"Fine." James gave in. "But if he tries anything in transit, I'm not holding back."

"Fair, I guess, but do us a favor and don't kill him, alright?" Tony relaxed slightly. Hopefully by then they'd have gotten Steve and Bucky back. Tony winced. If not, there was a good chance that James would lose it, the moment he set eyes on the Scientist Supreme, and Tony, for one, wanted answers as to what the hell that device did, exactly.

"You're taking all the fun out of this," his passenger complained.

Tony could tell he was only half serious, at best, so he let it pass. "Yeah, I know. I'm the worst. Come on, we might as well run a search pattern while we're just hanging around and waiting for pickup."

"I can't stop you," James replied, still pretending to sulk a little. "Be smart if we could find them, but you're assuming that they landed anywhere near us."

"The worst that can happen, James? Is that we come up empty." Tony reached up to flip his faceplate closed again. "But if we find them it might mean the difference between survival and drowning for them."

As his HUD came up, information flooding over him, James responded. Tony's statement got him a slightly aggravated sigh that Tony was fairly sure was because James was still worrying about him, but no verbal protest.

After a beat James growled, "Then get your metal ass in gear."

"Sure, sure. Let me plan it out a bit first. And tell me if you start feeling crispy," Tony shot back, taking in the GPS data JARVIS was feeding him (they were out in the middle of the Baltic Sea for some reason), the search pattern his AI was recommending (standard coast guard issue), the current status of the satellite search that was ongoing (still all negative), and his suit's status (functional but in dire need of a tune up). Other less relevant data feeds were minimised at the moment, and would stay that way until he asked for them or JARVIS thought he needed them.

Once he'd oriented himself and mentally plotted out the maneuvers he'd need to run the search pattern with a passenger, Tony took off, heading roughly southwest.

James was quiet, surveying the open waves and providing a third pair of eyes, for the first five minutes of the search. When he broke the silence, it was to ask, "Tony, even if we do find them, you can only carry one. How do you intend to deal with that?"

"By not carrying anyone," Tony replied absently, more focused on the search than on James' question.

"Huh? How will that help?" his lover was eyeing him critically.

Tony gave James his attention briefly. "I can only lift one, safely. More would foul up too many of my flight surfaces. I can tow a lot more."

"What? You got a tow cable stashed away somewhere? We'd get burned by the repulsors in your boots if we tried to hang onto you."

In answer, Tony flipped through his HUD's menus quickly and gave JARVIS the command to open the compartment at his waist. The small twenty-meter reel of high tension steel cable -- which he'd very carefully engineered himself to be very compact -- came into view and James laughed. "Okay, fine. You win."

"Usually do," Tony quipped back and kept flying.

James spotted something between the crests of the waves about fifteen minutes later, and pointed Tony at it. "There. Fifty meters to your 11 o'clock. Someone's swimming."

There weren't many reasons to swim out here. Either it was their missing teammates, or someone else in need of rescue after a shipwreck. Shortly afterward, it was clear they'd found Steve. The person in the water raised both arms in the sign requesting help, and attached to one of them was a very distinctive shield. As they got close enough for Tony's cameras to resolve facial features, JARVIS helpfully highlighted him, and Tony spotted Bucky a moment later.

Breathing a definite sigh of relief, he closed the remaining distance quickly. Cueing the comms, to take advantage of the direct radio link, he demanded, "Cap? You alright?"

The reply was slightly distorted, but understandable. "We're okay, but it'll be nice to get dry."

Thank fuck. "Hawkeye's on his way," Tony replied, "and JARVIS is keeping him updated on our position. Speaking of. J, ETA on the Quinjet?"

"I would estimate ten more minutes, Sir," JARVIS replied, broadcasting to Steve's comms as well.

There was a grumble of sound and then Bucky spoke over the comms. "Good. More'n that an' I think I'd just try to swim home. It's cold."


	4. [Bucky POV]

When James suddenly got his human legs back, a bare couple of minutes before Hawkeye was due to show up to get them, Tony made a surprised sound. "Now that's interesting."

"What is?" James demanded, shivering, and now nude from the waist down.

To Bucky's trained ear, Tony sounded like he was about to descend into technobabble. "In plain English for those of us that don't speak science," he put in, before Tony could start rambling.

It was bizarre to hear James physically growl at him under his breath, irritated with him on Tony's behalf, rather than do it silently somewhere at the back of Bucky's head. Realising just how used he'd gotten to having that presence there, dark and vaguely threatening but still somehow reassuring, was leaving him feeling off-balance. Bucky'd known the two of them had come to a sort of truce, started to really accept one another, but he'd never expected to _miss having him there_.

Steve snickered, breaking Bucky back out of his thoughts, and Tony audibly rolled his eyes, for all that his face was still concealed by the faceplate. "You understand plenty. But fine. It's been an hour and a half down to the minute since J hauled James out of the water. That implies that if we dry you out for 90 minutes, you should get your legs back too, if you're both affected the same way. And it wouldn't make much sense for you to be feeling different effects, given that you were both hit by the same blast and that the Scientist Supreme bases his creations in science rather than magic."

"Seems plausible," Steve agreed.

A beat later the sound of the Quinjet's engines grew just loud enough to be audible over the waves, and they all turned to stare at the horizon expectantly. Visibility was about 25 klicks, so Bucky knew they would be getting fished out of the water in less than fifteen seconds, taking into account the speeds the aircraft could achieve, even at low altitudes. "Alright," Tony asked, "who needs a lift up and who wants a tow cable?"

"I'll just carry Buck up, give me the cable. You take James," Steve suggested, watching as Hawkeye brought the jet to a stop hovering just above them and to their right.

"You know," Clint told them, "the way you four vanished, we all thought you suddenly got sick of us." 

James exchanged a look with Tony as the pair of them drifted gently higher into the air and into the opening hatch at the rear of the Quinjet. "And if we did?" He asked Clint.

"Well, I guess there's not much I can do about it," Clint shot back, "except turn right around and leave you here."

Tony sniffed. "You wouldn't dare. I fund just about everything this team does out of my own pockets, at this point."

"Okay," Clint conceded and lowered the cable positioned over the hatch door, "you guys can come aboard, I guess. And you've won me over, Stark, but the others are still on probation."

The teasing was a slice of normal in a really bizarre situation, and Bucky could tell the others had all latched onto that hard. "Barton," he added, "where he goes, we go. You really want to take us on head to head? It won't end well for you."

"Nat would help me." Clint declared, making Steve laugh.

"Nat," Steve disagreed as he and Bucky were towed up to the jet, sea water streaming off them, "is far too pragmatic for that."

And then Steve's feet hit the deck of the jet, sending a small shock up his legs and through both of them, and making some of the seawater in his boots dribble out with a disgusting squish. Bucky, suddenly too tired to give a damn about anything anymore, let go of Steve, thinking he'd settle himself on the floor of the jet for the time being.

Steve had other ideas, though. His free arm, previously the one he'd used to hold onto the towrope, went around Bucky's waist, and his hold tightened. A moment later, Steve was settled on the bench at the starboard side of the jet with Bucky pinned securely in his lap. He wasn't unhappy with that state of affairs, so he didn't protest, wrapping himself bodily around the one true constant in his life.

James took the opportunity to hunt through the lockers on the jet's port side for a spare pair of pants.

Tony put up his faceplate and gave them a slightly critical once-over, then picked up a six pack of bottled water and set it next to Steve on the bench with a muted thump. "You both look shattered. Drink and rest."

That in no way went against what Bucky wanted, so he didn't protest. The continuing silence in his head where James had previously been was just strange. He felt like he was prodding at a sore tooth every time he noticed it. Not having James making pointed commentary on his thoughts and actions was disorienting.

He suddenly wondered how his newly-embodied alter ego was handling it. "James?"

Bucky got a questioning look and a raised eyebrow in silent reply.

"It's too quiet," he offered, not sure how to approach the topic, but knowing he probably should.

"It is." James nodded, then pulled the spare pants on and buttoned them. "It's disorienting," he added, echoing Bucky's thoughts in a way that surprised him, for all that they were pretty much the same person and had literally more or less peacefully shared brainspace for the better part of 18 months now.

Tony eyed them both speculatively. "That's gonna be a problem, isn't it," he said, his intonation making it more a statement of fact than a question.

Steve shrugged and settled back against the lightly padded bench. "Probably. But let's not borrow trouble. We'll deal with that once we're back at the Tower. Right now, we need to get back to the team, and keep an eye on the Supreme Scientist. Even if SHIELD has the right equipment on hand to contain him, we don't know whether it'll be effective, after the way he caught us off guard today."

Bucky scowled and nodded. "We sure don't need that happenin' again."

"Not if we can help it," Clint agreed, turning the Quinjet towards shore and the rest of their team.

Tony stepped over to James and gave him a pointed shove towards the bench. James gave him a look that spoke volumes, but followed orders without a word. Once Tony was sure James was settled and not moving, he turned and grabbed unerringly for the secured boxes of high calorie snacks that the jets were stocked with for Steve, but worked well on Bucky -- and James -- too.

Steve saw right through the move and jumped on it. "Tony, toss me a few of those snacks? And Buck, hand me a bottle, of water, would'ya?"

The request to Tony was instantly fulfilled. Bucky reflected on that as he grabbed for the wrapped pack of water bottles and tore it open to offer one to his lover. Steve and Tony had, despite their many disagreements, found their stride together as Captain and SiC. And it showed. Tony didn't fight him on everything anymore, Steve didn't object to all of Tony's plans anymore. They'd learned to work around one another's quirks and tolerate differences of opinion. Once they'd ended up in bed together, things had clearly improved another notch or three.

After he'd tossed Steve four of the wrapped ration bars in the box, Tony paused. "Buck, you need any of them?"

Clearing his throat and cracking open a bottle of water for himself as he did, Bucky nodded. "Wouldn't hurt," he agreed.

Tony tossed him a couple more, then carried the rest of the box over to James and simply poured them out into James' lap. A second six pack of water bottles followed. "If Bucky needs to eat and drink, you do too," he declared. "Here."

James grumbled something under his breath that Bucky couldn't make out -- probably objecting to Tony worrying over him, Bucky suspected -- but accepted the care Tony was showing and Bucky could tell he was silently reveling in it. James had spent far too long as an object to be used, rather than a person to be cared for. Tony's very obvious gestures were a perfect antidote to that, really. Tony showed he cared through material things, most often, but where James was concerned, he also tended to apply the things he offered directly instead of just simply handing them over and assuming they'd be accepted and made use of. It was sweet. It was the kind of aftercare needed after the end of a scene, applied to James' recovery. And James responded to it beautifully, showering Tony with the same attention in kind. Better yet, he took the next step, too, applying the same care to Steve who needed it just as much as Tony did, really.

He hadn't seen it at the beginning, when they'd agreed to this relationship, but now... Bucky was very glad they'd persuaded him. The three (well, four, unless they could reverse this whatever-it-was) of them balanced each other in a lot of ways that wouldn't have been remotely possible for any two of them on their own.

They worked, and it amazed Bucky how well.

"Tony," James growled, a distinct tone of command in his voice, "sit down."

Bucky watched Tony consider resisting, then give in with a mental shrug and peel the armour off. Tony plucked one of the ration bars out of James' hands and opened it before he held it in front of James' face. "I'll sit, if you eat."


	5. [Steve POV]

The five of them got back to the mission site about fifteen minutes after Clint picked them up. In the interim, Tony had fussed over all three of them. It had made Steve smile, though he'd been careful to only let Bucky see that.

Then, the moment the Quinjet had touched back down, Tony had been off like a shot, clearly out for blood, and preferably that of a very specific person. James had been close on his heels, apparently recovered enough to either want to keep Tony safe or get some revenge of his own.

Bucky still hadn't gotten his human legs back, and didn't seem to want to let go of him, so Steve stayed put, willing to let the others deal with this while he comforted his lover. "Keep an eye on them, would you, Hawkeye," he requested. "We'll babysit the jet."

Clint sighed, a long-suffering sound that Steve saw right through to the fondness beneath. "Those two are looking for a fight," he pointed out as he strode purposefully past them, checked the movement, paused to hand Steve a spare comm, and then made his way off the jet, "and if you think I'm dumb enough to get between them and their target, you got another think comin'."

After Clint had left Steve alternated between staring at the comm unit and wondering whether he wanted to put it in and know what havoc Tony and James were wreaking, and staring at Bucky, trying to estimate how much longer he'd have to wait to get his human legs back. He wasn't about to leave until Bucky could defend himself properly.

About a minute passed that way, and then Bucky grumbled a few curses under his breath and deftly snatched the comm out of Steve's hand. "If you're not gonna use that, I am," he declared, putting it in, and securing it over his ear.

Steve considered taking it back, then decided not to bother. Someone would let Bucky know if either of them was needed, and Steve trusted Bucky to pass on that information. It left him feeling slightly anxious, being out of the loop, but he bit down on the need to snatch back the comm. It would be just as bad for Bucky not to have one as it was for him, after all.

A thought struck him, then; they didn't need to battle over the comm.

Rather than fight his lover for the device, Steve leaned back and tucked Bucky in close, settling them chest to chest and tucking his chin in the curve of Bucky's neck so that he could listen in too.

Bucky huffed at him, amused, but let himself be moved and wrapped all of his limbs around Steve again.

"-- no, really," Tony was saying when Steve focused on the feed, "James, we need him alive for now."

"What for." James' voice was dark and sent a shiver through Steve. 

"He can't undo what he did, Iron Man," Natasha put in. "The device he built was only meant to be used once, and he didn't bother coming up with a way to reverse the effects."

"He's worth nothing to us, tactically," James summarised. "He can't fix what he did, and won't tell us anything useful either." 

Tony's voice went quiet. "I thought you were done killing in cold blood," he said, sounding eerily calm. Hearing it, Bucky went still in his arms, and Steve felt himself tense up, too. He could just about feel the tension singing in Tony's voice, and suspected Bucky could too. Knew James had to.

Clint sighed loudly. "How about we table the discussion until we can get him back to base, and then let SHIELD figure out what to do with him," he suggested. "If the guy becomes a problem we'll get another crack at him anyway."

"Drop him in the Baltic sea, then," James shot back. "Let him swim, like we had to."

Steve relaxed a hair. "James," he put in, "he doesn't have anyone to rescue him like you did."

"Drop him there and send SHIELD to pick him up," Tony suggested, more than a little bit of glee in his voice. 

" _Yes_ ," James latched onto the idea, and Steve knew there would be no dissuading him now. Bucky groaned and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

Clint laughed. "There's poetic justice for you. I'll call it in. You guys secure him."

"Don't forget to untie him before you drop him in the sea," Bucky said on a sigh, breaking his silence.

"Who's calling SHIELD?" Tony asked.

"Already dealt with," Natasha answered.

Steve felt he should probably say something about the form of revenge James had picked, but he wasn't feeling all that charitable. Nor was the rest of the team, it appeared.

Some ten minutes later, the team filed back aboard the jet with their loudly protesting prisoner in tow. The Scientist Supreme was a disheveled mess, his hair and eyes wild and his clothes torn in a few places. His hands had been zip tied together at the wrist behind his back, and James was frog-marching him along. He stumbled over the lip of the Quinjet's cargo ramp, but James simply kept moving, using his superior strength and bodyweight to bodily haul their adversary into the craft.

"Oh!" The Scientist Supreme exclaimed gleefully, when he spotted Bucky. "It worked! Excellent. Do tell me ho-- glk!"

The man's words cut off when Tony's armoured fist wrapped around his collar and he was hauled back up out of his seat to dangle a few inches in the air.

"You are skating on very thin ice," Tony warned him, clearly one wrong word away from taking the man in his hands and flying him up to thirty thousand feet. Without any kind of safety gear. His voice, even through the digital distortion, sounded nearly as menacing as James' had, and Steve knew Tony was about as angry as he ever allowed himself to get without obliterating the source of that emotion with extreme prejudice.

"Put him down, Iron Man," Steve said, hearing the tired rasp in his own voice. "He might be a genius but he's also a moron. He might rethink his stance over the next few hours and cooperate with SHIELD."

Miracles did happen every so often, after all.

It took a few seconds, but Tony eventually obeyed and dropped the idiot back onto the floor of the Quinjet, where he lay in a stunned heap, gasping for air.

It didn't take them long to reach the coordinates that Natasha had given SHIELD, drop the Scientist Supreme out the back of the jet from a height of about ten feet, make sure he came back up again, and close up the cargo ramp.

The lot of them were quiet save for a few requests for things like water or snacks until they reached New York City lines. About half an hour into the trip home Bucky got his human legs back, and breathed an audible sigh of relief despite his sudden involuntary nudity. Natasha had eyed his bare legs and ass appreciatively before handing him a spare pair of Tony's pants that she had to know damned well Bucky only barely fit into, being rather more muscular and broader than Tony. Steve said nothing, appreciating the view. After the day they'd all had -- no, after the day _he'd_ had, he needed something to lift his spirits a little. And seeing Bucky crammed into a pair of their shared lover's pants (which he didn't bother trying to button or zip) definitely fit that bill. Not long afterward, they'd received word that SHIELD had picked up the Scientist Supreme and would be transporting him to the Helicarrier for interrogation. Steve had carefully hidden his relief. By that point, his temper had cooled a little and he couldn't help but feel he'd let the team lead him into something of an overreaction.

They reached the Tower and set down the jet without incident, then trooped inside and split up. Tony followed them in, letting his automated armour stripper do what it was designed to.

"I need to go scald the skin off my back and shoulders," Clint declared, "and you guys smell like ocean."

Natasha slid past them, her movements as graceful as ever, and nodded, "Go clean up, and have some sex. Work it out of your systems," she suggested bluntly.

"That is a good plan," James agreed, and gave Tony a hopeful look.

Steve gave them a critical once-over. "Both of you look exhausted. Shower and sleep would be smarter. For all of us."

Clint turned and made a break for the elevator. "Whatever. Do what you want. I'm out of here."

Natasha followed him without another word, leaving the four of them alone on the common floor.

After a moment, Tony reached for the zipper at the back of his neoprene undersuit and tugged at it, revealing a tantalising slice of tanned skin between his shoulder blades. "Sex or no sex, I want a shower, too. You three coming or not?"

James was at his side and tugging the zipper farther down before Steve could blink. "Definitely coming. Preferably with you."

"Fine, you win, Tony," Bucky agreed. "C'mon, Steve. Let's go get the salt off us."

"I'd prefer to get something else off," Steve told him, as he followed the three of them towards the second elevator that opened on this floor: the private one that led directly to Tony's apartments.

The comment got him a knowing look from Bucky and a raised eyebrow from Tony.

James simply kept working Tony out of his undersuit inch by inch.

Tony didn't stop him.


	6. [James POV]

He got Tony naked to his waist before the elevator came to a smooth halt. The sight made James _want_ despite the tired aches and his body's need for rest. Even knowing that Tony was probably just as worn out didn't deter him. James followed his lover out of the elevator and through the foyer of the penthouse apartment without trying to hold him back. Touching Tony had helped keep him calm and centered through the trip back to New York, and he didn't doubt that he would need that until he'd adjusted to the _quiet_ in the back of his head.

The other two followed them through the wide open spaces of Tony's home, talking in undertones that were low enough to escape even James' sensitive hearing.

It hadn't escaped him that Bucky had stuck as close to Steve as he had to Tony. He wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that it had been born out of a similar need for comfort. Something Tony had eventually convinced him was acceptable to want.

No hesitation at all in his body language, Tony made a beeline for his ridiculously opulent bathroom with its sauna, hot tub, and massive shower. The thing had enough shower heads to serve as a barracks shower, but occupied maybe a quarter of the space, and the hot water never ran out. Ever. James loved it.

As Steve and Bucky followed them in, Tony spoke, "You know there's a chance you might end up half calamari again if you take a shower, right?"

Bucky shrugged. "At this point, all I want is to be clean."

"Me too," James agreed, putting his hands back on Tony, this time, running them over bare skin and letting that settle the nerves that were trying to rise up again.

"You gonna shower in your gear?" Steve teased them, and James realised he'd been too distracted to even think about stripping down.

"No chance in Hell," he replied, and started deftly working the zippers, snaps, and Velcro that secured his gear to his body.

Bucky huffed at him in amusement, but followed suit. It didn't take either of them long to shuck their heavy body armour and weapons, most of which had survived today's mission intact. Everything would have to be meticulously cleaned and lubed, but that was far from the worst consequence their misadventure could have had. James had always found weapons maintenance to be soothing, and so had Bucky.

Steve made a face at them, then sighed and kicked the gear they'd simply dropped to the floor into a tangled pile out of the way of their eventual path back out into the master bedroom. "One day, you'll put your gear away properly, and pigs will fly," he commented, voice dry.

"You're not much better," Tony pointed out, laughing as he peeled his undersuit down his legs and off over his feet. He tossed it onto the pile of gear once he was free. "And you're also the only one still in uniform. What're you waiting for?"

Bucky reached out, undoing the armoured costume's upper half and taking advantage of the move to grope Steve's chest through the t-shirt beneath as he did. "I don't even remotely care what the answer is, right now, Tony," he interjected.

James nodded and stepped up behind Steve to reach around and undo the pants and shove them off Steve's narrow hips. "This is more efficient. Steve, boots off."

Steve followed orders, bending slightly awkwardly to work the boots and his uniform pants off without dislodging Bucky or James, and then somehow they stumbled into the shower, still tangled together. Bucky's organic shoulder hit the tiled wall and he flinched, surprised by the temperature difference.

Tony pulled them back upright, taking a moment to be relieved that neither Bucky nor James had suddenly lost their land legs, and then hauled the closest person in for a kiss. It happened to be Steve. "There," he declared, "now get clean."

The hot water drenching all of them felt amazing, and Tony's demand didn't go against what James wanted. However, he had a better plan.

James reached for the shampoo sitting on the ledge perfectly within arm's reach, and poured out a palmful into his right hand. Using the other, he pulled Tony in until they were chest to chest and started washing Tony's hair. It didn't take long for Tony's head to drop until his forehead rested against James' left collarbone, as he went boneless, practically purring. "You're getting that head injury checked out," he told Tony once the suds had foamed up properly.

"Good luck with that," Steve chuckled, and James glanced over at him. Steve was quickly and efficiently washing the grime off his skin, and Bucky was doing his best to distract him. 

"Don' wanna," Tony mumbled, a beat later, "'m fine."

And, really, James had to admit, Tony hadn't seemed any the worse for wear throughout the rest of their mission. But that didn't make it any less of an imperative to make sure there was no damage. He'd only worry. James decided he'd keep an eye on Tony himself. He knew how concussion symptoms (and many other far more life threatening things) manifested, and was confident he'd know when to coerce Tony into medical.

This was normally where Bucky would yell at him for treating Tony like glass, but there was only silence. He gave in with a sigh, knowing the sound had to telegraph his internal conflict. "If you expect me to go along with that, you're also letting me check you out when I feel it's necessary."

"You worry too much," Tony told him, rousing slightly when James started rinsing the suds back out of his hair.

"And you don't worry enough. It balances out," James grumbled at him.

Bucky put a water-warmed metal hand on his shoulder, and James looked over. Bucky caught and held his eyes. "We have a type," was all he said, a small crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Steve stepped back out of the shower and grabbed for his towel. "I'm not nearly that bad."

Bucky glared at him then did the same. "No, you're worse, now that you know the serum will fix just about anything," he griped.

Tony growled something under his breath that James chose to ignore, and pushed himself properly upright. "Whatever. You three can fight over that, if you want. I'm going to go be horizontal for a while."

James immediately missed having Tony leaning against him, but savagely stamped down on the urge to cling to him. No one would thank him for that, least of all Tony.

Bucky gave him a look that said he knew what was going through James' mind, and offered him his hand.

He wasn't entirely sure how, but after that James found himself wrapped up in Bucky's arms, quiet sobs wracking him, with Steve pressed tightly to his back, the pair of them shoring him up as the emotion that had been building in him over the last six hours crested and broke. Some indeterminate length of time later, familiar calloused hands tangled themselves in his hair, and James gratefully breathed in that scent of solder and oil that never quite left Tony's skin.

The four of them stood together like that until James had calmed, then slowly drifted apart, carefully, gently, to dump their towels in the hamper and find something to sleep in. They left their uniforms on the floor, ignored.

"James, on the bed," Steve demanded, taking charge and verbally prodding them toward the broad surface.

It didn't take them long to arrange themselves on Tony's oversized mattress, bought custom made for three but large enough for four. Even if all four of them had broad shoulders. This time James found himself insistently pushed into the middle with Tony, who went along with the move without protesting it as he usually did.

"C'mere," he encouraged, instead and wrapped himself bodily around James, this time.

Tony preferred to sleep bare, and James tended toward the opposite, but this time he'd intentionally foregone putting on any kind of clothing after he'd dried himself off, needing the skin contact. Knowing he would need it throughout the night, and probably at frequent intervals for the next few days as he and Bucky adjusted to their new roles in this relationship and the team.

Suddenly having the equivalent of a very much recovered Winter Soldier with his own likes and wants and a much more jaded Bucky Barnes, both now very much corporeal, made certain dynamics awkward.

Such as his need to treat Tony like a damned teddy bear, James thought sourly. 

He shifted slightly as Steve and Bucky joined them, positioning themselves protectively around him and Tony. Bucky was probably adjusting more quickly to not having him in his head, James admitted to himself, almost flinching at the spear of hurt that pierced him. He himself had never known what Bucky had. Never been alone like this until now. It was totally foreign not to feel Bucky pushing and pulling at him, teaching him and criticising him. They made each other more.

Or they had.

Tony jerked him back out of his thoughts with a thoughtful hum and a hand that buried itself in the hair at the base of James' skull, cradling and supporting him. "You alright in there?"

James shook off the mood as best he could. "More or less."

Bucky, at his back, wrapped a metal arm around his waist and sent a shiver through him at the touch of the cool metal. "You're worrying about somethin'," he disagreed, "probably about shit that doesn't matter right now. Turn it off, shut it down. We'll talk it through after we rest. First we all gotta recover from that clusterfuck of a mission."

"I'm with Buck," Steve put in, and ran a broad warm hand down James' flank and the outside of his thigh. "Rest now, and tomorrow we can deal with the consequences."


End file.
